


Could've Been Worse

by Ithiel_Dragon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Wings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiel_Dragon/pseuds/Ithiel_Dragon
Summary: What if Aziraphale and Crowleydidn'tswitch bodies before Heaven and Hell took them for punishment?





	Could've Been Worse

All in all… it could have gone much worse.

Crowley stood in the middle of St. James Park.  In nearly the exact same spot the demons had ambushed him.  The same spot he’d seen the angels drag Aziraphale away…

But unlike then, it was now it was pitch dark.  Several hours, or even days, had passed.  He wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been. Hell had a way of muddling his sense of the passage of time.  The park was deserted. Empty of humans, most likely due to the heavy downpour of rain and ominous rumbling of thunder overhead.  Even the ducks had taken shelter, hidden somewhere in the long weeds, to wait out the dark and stormy night.

The same demons who had taken him, had dropped him there, and then left unceremoniously.  As far as Crowley could tell, he was utterly alone.   

No one to witness the demon’s shell shocked expression.  No one to notice how he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.  No one to see exactly how terrified he was by what had happened. 

Oh, he’d put on a brave face for the minions of hell.  He’d had to. They’d already tried to kill him once.  If he'd showed any hint of weakness... What’s to say they wouldn’t try again, just because their preferred method of execution had failed? 

Fake it till you make it, right?

A rubber duck… of all things...

Only now… Crowley looked down at his shaking hands.  The rainwater pooling in his palms. Simple, plain, water.  But only a few hours ago… a body wide shudder passed through the demon.  Holy water. The holiest. He’d seen what that shit could do. A mere bucket full had been enough to turn Ligur into a very smelly puddle of goo. The imp Hastur had tested the water on hadn’t fared any better either. It had _definitely_ been holy water, and yet somehow… somehow…

Crowley shook his head in a vain attempt to order his racing thoughts.

He could figure out why the holy water hadn’t liquefied him like the world's worst acid bath later.  The angels had taken Aziraphale, and if Michael was providing Hell with holy water, a (normally) surefire way to execute a demon, he could only assume that Heaven was planning something similar for the angel. It could already be too late…

He shook his head again, this time in denial, and started quickly along the path that would take him out of the park.  He wouldn’t… couldn’t… believe that until he knew for certain. Heaven wasn’t exactly a place that was easy for a demon to break into, but he’d find a way.  Aziraphale’s bookshop probably had some means of getting there, and if not… Crowley would claw his way up with his bare hands if that’s what it took, damn it!

Before the demon could make any further plans, he rounded a copse of trees and found himself distracted by the sight of a lone figure standing in the rain looking out over the dark pond.  Crowley stopped in his tracks, and stared in confusion, hope warring with disbelief. It reminded him far too much of that moment in the bar after the book shop had burned down. 

“Aziraphale?” he whispered, almost too softly to be heard over the storm.

To his surprise, the figure startled and slowly turned to look at him. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale spoke, his voice shaking and sounding just as surprised to see him, “Is it really you?”

Any other day the demon might have snapped back with a snarky remark. But after everything that had happened, he simply didn’t have it in him to keep up pretenses.  Instead he closed the distance between them in quick purposeful strides and threw his arms around the angel.

For several long moments Aziraphale didn’t move.  Probably from sheer shock that the demon had actually hugged him.  Then the angel’s arms slowly came up around him, almost hesitant at first, before returning the crushing embrace.  It was actually a little uncomfortable, making his ribs ache, but Crowley wasn’t about to ask the angel to loosen his hold. 

“Crowley… oh, thank G… thank goodness… I thought...”

“Are you alright? What happened?” They said almost at the same time, and Crowley had to chuckle softly in spite of everything.  Aziraphale responded by squeezing him a little tighter.

“They… they said you were going to be executed.  That Michael delivered the holy water herself… to Hell.  I thought… I thought you were dead…” Aziraphale whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he buried his face into Crowley’s chest. 

Crowley shivered and swallowed hard.  He didn’t know what to say. He _should_ have been dead.  He had no idea how to explain to Aziraphale how he was still alive.  Though in all honesty maybe now wasn’t the time. They had bigger things to worry about right now.  Like running away.

“We can’t stay here.  Sooner or later they’re going to come looking for us, and we probably won’t be so lucky next time,” Crowley said, as gently as he knew how.  He’d already asked Aziraphale to run away with him, twice, and the angel had refused both times. But this time was different, and Crowley didn’t know what he would do if Aziraphale said ‘no’ again…

The angel sniffled loudly and gave a slight nod, much to the demon’s relief.  It was still several moments before Aziraphale drew back far enough to give him a trembling smile.  Aziraphale’s eyes were red and puffy, and Crowley was pretty sure some of the dampness on the angel’s cheeks wasn’t merely from the rain. 

Without really thinking, Crowley lifted his hand as though to wipe away the angel’s tears, but he stopped just short of actually touching him.  He hated seeing Aziraphale like this, and wanted desperately to comfort him. But this wasn’t exactly his… area… and he couldn’t help recalling how Aziraphale had once chastised him for moving ‘too fast’ for him. 

But after a moment of hesitation, Aziraphale took the decision away from him.  Turning his head enough that Crowley’s palm brushed his cheek and leaning into the touch with a soft sigh. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat.

“It’s going to be alright, angel,” Crowley whispered.  He had to believe that, “As long as we’re together…”

Crowley wasn’t expecting Aziraphale’s expression to crumble at his words and for the angel to begin sobbing in earnest.  The demon pulled his hand away as if burned, an apology already on his lips, even if he had no idea what he was apologizing for.

“I’m sorry…”

“No,” Aziraphale whispered, catching Crowley’s hand and bringing it back to his face, practically nuzzling his palm.  Like his touch was the only thing keeping the angel from falling to pieces, “I… Crowley… I need to tell you something…”

Crowley’s heart dropped into his stomach at the tone.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Aziraphale sound so… lost… before.  Was the angel about to tell them that they couldn’t run away together after all? After everything… he almost wished the holy water _had_ destroyed him…

“Angel, please…” he was fully prepared to beg if that’s what it took for Aziraphale to stay with him.

“Crowley I don’t… I don’t think I’m an angel anymore,” Aziraphale said quickly.  Crowley’s jaw snapped shut with a click. That… he… hadn’t been expecting. What did that even mean?

“I… when I was in heaven,” Aziraphale rushed on, “After they told me what Hell was going to do to you.  A demon arrived… he… he summoned hellfire… and…”

Crowley could see where this was going now.  He’d thought he’d caught a whiff of brimstone, but he’d assumed the familiar smell was coming from himself.  He'd just gotten back from Hell after all.  Now as he cradled the angel close and buried his nose in Aziraphale’s hair he realized it wasn’t from him after all.  It was coming from Aziraphale.

“Oh, Crowley… I think… I think I’ve... fallen…” Aziraphale whispered in a small trembling voice. 

Crowley shook his head in disbelief.  It didn’t… make any sense. Aziraphale?  Fallen? There was no possible way. Aziraphale was just too… good.  He’d always had been from the very beginning. He was a far better angel than that prick Gabriel or Michael or… How could he have fallen?  Surely if he _had_ , Crowley would have known?  He would have sensed something different about his friend?  But Aziraphale felt exactly the same as he always had…

But then, how could Aziraphale have survived hellfire?  How had _he_ survived holy water?

Crowley rubbed his hand up and down the sobbing angel’s back, a poor attempt at offering comfort, but it gave him an idea nonetheless.

“Have you… checked?” he asked cautiously.  Aziraphale hiccuped and carefully drew away to look at him again.

“What?” 

“Your… wings.  Have you checked them?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale paled a little. 

“I… no… I’ve been a bit… distracted…” Aziraphale admitted and Crowley nodded in understanding.  Falling wasn’t exactly an easy concept to get used to. Distracted was probably an understatement. 

“Show me?” Crowley asked gently.  Aziraphale paled even more if that was possible and shook his head weakly.  He even tried to pull away from the demon, but Crowley held onto him tightly, refusing to let him go, “It’s all right, angel.  It won’t matter to me either way, you know that.”

“Crowley, I…”

“You’ll _always_ be _my_ angel,” Crowley stated firmly, and Aziraphale stopped trying to move away.  He looked like he might start crying again. Instead the angel took a deep slow breath, shored up his courage, and let his wings unfurl behind him. 

Crowley’s jaw dropped open in shock. 

They weren’t the pearly white wings of an angel.  Nor were they the pitch black wings of a demon. Instead, the feathers were a cool steel gray color.  But in the faint light of the street lamps, he could see an iridescent shimmer of color, resembling mother of pearl…

“Holy shit, angel,” Crowley couldn’t help but whisper.  They were… beautiful.

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder and his face crumbled.

“Oh dear…” To an angel whose wings had always been pure white, the new color must have seemed damning indeed. 

“It’s okay, angel.”

“I’m falling…”

“No.  It doesn’t work like that,” Crowley insisted with conviction, trying to erase that broken look from his friend’s face.  Either an angel had white wings, or a demon had black wings. There was no in between. At least… there had never been until now, “I don’t know what’s happening, Aziraphale.  But you’re not a demon. You’re not fallen. You feel the same to me as you always have.”

“But…” Aziraphale whispered, finally turning his attention back to the demon, “The hellfire…”

“I don’t know how to explain it, angel.  But the same thing happened to me. They tried to douse me with holy water but somehow… I survived,” Crowley finally admitted, and it was Aziraphale’s turn to look shocked.  He’d probably simply assumed that Crowley had escaped Hell before his punishment had been carried out. 

“Crowley… show me?  Your wings? Please?”

Crowley felt a stab of fear shoot through him at the request.  But how could he possibly deny the angel? Especially now?

So, Crowley put on a brave face, and slowly unfurled his wings behind him. 

“Oh my… Crowley…” Aziraphale’s reaction alone was enough to confirm Crowley's suspicions that something had changed, but he still brought one of his wings forward to check for certain.  To his surprise the feathers were no longer the sleek midnight black they’d been since he’d fallen from grace.  While still a few shades darker than Aziraphale’s gray feathers, they also had that same shimmering rainbow of color when the light hit them. 

“What does it mean?” Aziraphale asked, but Crowley merely shook his head.  He didn't have answers any more than Aziraphale did.

“We’ll figure it out.  Together…” he replied softly, almost a question.  Aziraphale looked into his eyes and gave him a slight nod before embracing him again.  Crowley let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. His new wings curled protectively around the angel, shielding him much like Aziraphale had done during that first storm so many, many, years ago. 

It would be all right. 

As long as they were together…


End file.
